Serpentilingus Leaves
by Sacire
Summary: Professor Longbottom is nervously awaiting the arrival of a very special guest lecturer.


At five past 7am on a Monday morning, a slightly disheveled Professor Longbottom stands in front of a branch-framed mirror – with a tiny, chubby toad curled up in the chest pocket of his button-down shirt – croaking softly as it sleeps.

He and his toad are situated in the little bathroom adjoined to Neville's greenhouse office. It is a bit over-cluttered with aquatic plants of various colors – climbing up the glass wall windowpanes – and winding around the shower curtain poles – so that any view of the occupant of the restroom is obscured. There are also a few exotic, fragrant flowers hanging from the glass ceiling – carefully selected to counteract certain bathroom odors.

Neville is struggling to tie his pink and blue polka-dotted bow when his clumsy and clammy fingers once again fumble the end of the bow that is meant to be tucked into its center loop.

"Meh, who needs this anyway?" Neville sighs – tossing the pink bow over his shoulder – and taking a moment to regard his reflection. After a minute of magically modifying his hair with his wand tip, he proudly admires his success at compressing every area – except for one rather large patch in the back that he cannot see.

_Not bad_ – he thinks – as he smirks and inflates his chest a bit. "What do you think, Trevor?"

The lethargic toad – a descendant of his namesake – yawns and lifts up his head to consider his companion. "Ribbit."

Neville – looking a little deflated – frowns at his friend. Neville's 34th birthday was just a few months ago, and he is only just now lamenting the fact that he is not quite as dashing as in his Hogwarts days. He still wears the same bangs – beginning each day pushed to the side but inevitably falling back into his face – giving him a childish look that is countered only slightly by his scruffy, failed attempts at growing a beard.

Instead of his usual plain green robes, today Neville is wearing the faded black dress robes that he usually reserves for only special occasions. He considers today's lesson to be one of those. His shirt seems to have shrunken a bit over the years – oddly just in the belly region – but he is hoping that today's guest lecturer will not notice.

His gaze in the mirror is interrupted by its sudden shattering. Confused, Neville looks down to find his bowtie – tangled with a dense wad of Serpentilingus leaves – lying on the floor in front of him. Connecting the dots, he immediately turns to his left and says – so quickly that he stumbles over his words – "I'm s-so sorry sir!" – to the tall potted plant in the corner – who reacts by making a barely noticeable nod. "I swear I didn't throw that bow in your face on purpose!"

"Do you converse with your perennials too?" came a soft, dreamy, and slightly vacant voice from the doorway.

Silenced by the shock of her sudden appearance, Neville turns bright red and – as respectfully as possible – regards his new guest. She looks older than the last time he saw her – at Harry and Ginny's wedding. Her stringy blonde hair – weaved in and out of the shavings of brightly colored root vegetables into several colorful braids spanning the length of her back – is so long that Neville wonders if she has cut it since graduating from Hogwarts.

Neville swallows hard as he notices that she is wearing an exceptionally elegant set of floor-length, midnight-black robes – with sporadic, golden, cherry tomatoes laced into its fabric – like stars. The slight translucence of the bottom of her robes reveals a colorful pair of striped, knee-high socks – which have small seams that separate her big toes from their neighbors – like mittens – that enable her to wear golden flip-flops that complement her outfit.

After a brief pause – as Neville stares speechless at the stunning young lady in front of him – he finally speaks – his voice cracking a bit – as he accidentally shouts, "Lu-una – I didn't hear you come in!"

As Neville's blush deepens to beet-red – the wide-eyed woman chuckles and a wide grin spreads across her chipper cheeks. "There was a peculiar shattering noise as I opened the door." Then, she gasps – her excitement palpable in the brightness of her eyes. "Was it, by any chance, a quacking quailbat? They are extremely rare and incredibly lovely!"

Before Neville can answer, Luna skips over to him and hops up to hug the man almost a foot and a half above her head. As he leans into her, Neville nuzzles his nose into Luna's neck and holds her tight for a few extraordinary minutes – or maybe just for a second or two – and breathes in deeply the rich buttery scent emanating from her beaded cork necklace. He did not think it was possible, but she somehow smells even better than he had imagined – a delicious aroma that is part-butterbeer and part-something-uniquely-Luna. Her skin feels warm against his cheek.

"Umm – Neville," squeaks a little voice next to his ear. "I would like to come down now, if you don't mind."

With reality racing back at an alarming pace – Neville simultaneously jerks upright and releases Luna – catapulting her across the room and into the tall plant a few feet away – which instantly spits her out – shooting her back at Neville. Anticipating this regurgitation, Neville catches her in his arms and gently places her back on her feet.

Neville nervously looks down at Luna, terrified to see her expression. But the wide-eyed girl only responds in a dreamy voice, "Wow – I never knew you to be such a graceful dancer. Can you hear the music too, then?"

Neville is again speechless by her reaction to his social mishap and decides it is best to not disappoint her with his answer. Instead, he makes an ambiguous gesture that is half-shrug and half-nod. Scurrying to change the subject before Luna can request a demonstration of his non-existent dance moves, Neville suggests, "Maybe we should start heading to class. It's almost half-past seven, and I usually like to rehearse my lecture once or twice before the students arrive."

As Luna begins to nod her head in approval of his plan, she notices Neville's feet for the first time this morning. She draws in her breath in astonishment, "Oh Neville, I love what you've done with your shoes! The pink and blue ribbon really brings out your ears."

Neville – beaming and blushing more intensely than he has in his entire life – is entirely unaccustomed to feeling this flattered and is completely unpracticed in the art of responding to compliments. Afraid of saying the wrong thing, Neville performs another noncommittal shrug-nod and quickly grabs the potted plant in the corner of the bathroom. He then runs over to the door – to hold it open for Luna – with his arm that is not holding the plant – making a mental note to always wear bowties on his shoes from this day forward.

After leaving his office – Neville is forced to speed-walk to keep up with the pace of Luna's skips – as they make their way to the lecture hall. He keeps looking down at Luna's swinging hand – feeling an intense desire to grab hold of it. But he controls his urge – unsure if this would be appropriate.

Just minutes before arriving at the classroom, Neville jumps when he hears a "Ribbit" coming from his shirt pocket. Alarmed by the sudden vibration against his already-throbbing-heart, he trips over his feet and falls flat on his face.

"Oh dear, are you all right, Neville?" – Luna asks with a look of concern on her face.

Embarrassed, Neville mumbles a barely audible "yes," before allowing Luna to help him up. Upon realizing that Luna is still holding his hand, Neville begins to skip along side her, and Luna has to jog to keep up.

When they reach the door of the lecture hall, Neville reluctantly releases her hand and welcomes her into the classroom.

"My gosh, it's beautiful!" – Luna exclaims, admiring the colorful plants covering the walls and ceiling of the room.

"Oh – it's all right – I guess." – Neville responds – trying to sound nonchalant. But his broad grin reveals how glad he is that his laborious preparations for her arrival were well-received.

"Are you ready to rehearse?" – Neville asks.

"I am. Are you?" – Luna responds – raising an eyebrow – with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

"What do you mean? You are giving the lecture today, right?" Neville asks – beginning to sweat. He has not prepared anything, and he usually needs at least 12 hours to cool his nerves before giving a lecture.

"I am. But I will need an assistant to demonstrate some of the uses of Serpentilingus leaves that I will discuss."

"What kind of uses?" – Neville asks – shaking because he does not handle suspense well.

"Oh, you'll see." – she replies – with a playfully sinister smirk on her face – before skipping to the front of the room.

Meanwhile, Neville remains frozen by the door, slowly shriveling into the plants on the back wall.


End file.
